


Team Hole

by BookofOdym



Category: Marvel, Marvel (Comics), West Coast Avengers
Genre: Anal Sex, Barebacking, Large Cock, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Riding, mentioned attempted suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-11
Updated: 2020-08-11
Packaged: 2021-03-06 08:21:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,477
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25846507
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BookofOdym/pseuds/BookofOdym
Summary: In a universe where Hank's groundsman duties included being stress relief for the others, USAgent joins the team.
Relationships: Clint Barton/Hank Pym, Hank Pym/John Walker
Kudos: 1





	Team Hole

**Author's Note:**

> John/Hank really should have existed? Even getting rid of WCA, their Mighty Avengers had a good dynamic too. Idk I'm shocked it didn't.

Clint swore when someone knocked on the door of his motel room. He was pissed off, angry at the government, and at USAgent and at the rest of the team for not quitting alongside him, and he was pissed off at Bobbi for not letting him be pissed off in peace. That would be her right now, it wasn’t like anyone else cared enough to come looking for him.

Well, if he just ignored the knocks, she’d eventually get the message and leave. He breathed a sigh of relief when they finally stopped. Finally, some peace and quiet.

That was when the door disappeared entirely.

“Oh,” a voice said from the doorway, “ah, oops, Clint, I think I broke your door.”

Hank. Just the kind of thing he would do. Clint hadn’t opened the door when he knocked, so he decided it was a good idea to just... shrink it. “You didn’t lose it, did you?” Hank had a habit of losing the things he shrunk down, and if they weren’t immediately useful, or weren’t dangerous, he had a habit of just leaving them where they were. Clint didn’t think the motel would appreciate a ½ inch sized door lying somewhere in the carpet of his room.

“No?” Hank said, which meant that he definitely had, Clint could even see him scrabbling around on the floor from the bed. “Aha!”

A moment later, the door was back in place, although it probably wouldn’t open properly. Hank had also neglected to put it back in place with himself on the outside, but that was also expected. What he hadn’t expected, was Hank lying down on the bed next to him.

“Ugh,” he said, stretching his arms behind his neck, “USAgent is the worst, I swear he’s guarding that quinjet room. I had to sneak out in Rover, but that’s only going to work once.”

Clint glared at him, he had no right looking so comfortable, when he couldn’t even show basic comradery by quitting the team along with Clint. “I’m sorry, did you think we were talking?”

Hank took that in stride, he tried to take everything in stride nowadays, which was an issue because Clint found it much easier to navigate a friendship when you could have a screaming match, or just start brawling in the meeting room. Hank would just give you that smile, the one that said he knew everything you were thinking, while also not giving away what was going on inside his head. “But you’re not mad at me, though, or at least you weren’t last night. You’re just stressed because the government gave away your job, and to a man that you hate, at that.”

“Hm, you’re wrong, though.”

Hank raised an eyebrow at him.

“I am mad at you, some back up would have been nice.”

The biochemist hummed, rolling over to face him, and Clint tried not to notice how blue his eyes were, or the way that the older man’s breath tickled against his nose. “So, you’re upset at me, and we’re not talking?”

“Got it in one, Buster.”

“Then I suppose the onus is on me to repair our friendship.”

“Who even says ‘onus’,” Clint grumbled. “Look, just yell at me for being a dick, okay, I’m not in the mood for any of this cryptic bullshit.”

“Okay,” Hank said, suddenly straddling his hips, “you’re being a dick, Clint. Can I please get on to the ‘repairing’?”

It was stupid for his body to be reacting to this. Hank wasn’t even naked, he was wearing his red jumpsuit. Including the boots, which, frankly, he should not have been wearing in bed. There was an air of mischief in Hank’s eyes, though, one that he hadn’t seen in a while.

He’d snuck out of the compound just to fuck. Clint chuckled as he grabbed the back of his neck, tugging him down for a kiss.

“Can’t even go twenty-four hours without my nice fat cock, can you?” He smirked.

“Well, that and Simon seemed to think it was a bad idea with Walker running around the compound...”

Right. This had all started between Hank, Simon, and Tony, back during the early days of the team. Hank had been the help, and there had been a lot of jokes (which if they had been directed at Bobbi would have been ended with a swift kick in the balls) about just what he should be helping with. Those jokes had quickly turned into reality.

Clint had been happily married at the time, so he hadn’t been able to join in the fun. ...After the divorce, though...

What he said next was too far, he knew it was, after everything Hank had been through recently, being kidnapped, his son dying, his dead first wife turning out to be alive, and then turning out to not even have been his wife in the first place, the fucking suicide attempt... the man was fragile. He was seeking affection in the only way he thought he could get it, and that way had all the strings attached.

Just because Clint had been thinking that he didn’t want to share with Simon recently, didn’t mean what he said was justified. But he said it anyway.

“Right, team slut, I forgot. Maybe you should have just gone to the Agent with your needs if it’s any available man you’re going for. Because to me, it seems like if you have to give up the company car when you’re fired, then people who quit don’t have to make do with the team hole.”

Hank went very still, and for the first time that night, Clint could read every single one of his thoughts on his face. The moments that Clint had pulled him close, nuzzling his face, turned into ‘Clint just wanted someone, anyone, after he lost his wife,’ which pretty quickly turned into: ‘everyone was just pretending to care about Henry to keep the fucked-up freak happy, because no one wanted to deal with another Yellowjacket incident.’

“I’ve been bothering you,” Hank said, scrambling to his feet, “I should go. I’m sorry.”

He disappeared so quickly, that if Clint hadn’t known better, he would have sworn that the man must have shrunken down.

* * *

John Walker was working late, this team needed some sort of structure, any structure at all, to avoid falling apart, but clearly, Barton had been slacking in that department. They didn’t even have regimented meal times for Christ’s sake, how was anyone in this team supposed to bond if they just ran into the kitchen at all hours of the day. The cook had said most of them only ate one piece of toast for breakfast, how were they supposed to operate a-

The door to his office swung shut. Someone had just come in without knocking. A quick glance at the clock told him that it was nearly midnight.

John raised his head, whether to lecture the individual on the importance of announcing their presence, or on the fact that they should have been in bed, he wasn’t sure. But something stopped him.

“Pym?” He asked because the man was white as a ghost, and he looked... unstable, the rims of his eyes were red, like he’d been crying (and to be honest, John didn’t think that men who cried were very good fits for superhero teams in the first place), and he was unsteady on his feet. In a rush, all the terms John had heard before he’d been assigned here came back to him. ‘Alternate personality,’ ‘multiple mental breakdowns,’ ‘suicide risk’. None of them were good.

“There was something else I should tell you, about working with this team,” Pym said, the laugh that came out of his lips didn’t sound right, “Jan wouldn’t have told you, she doesn’t know.”

‘The ex-wife doesn’t know about suicide attempt?’ was the first thought that came to mind, although John got the feeling that it wasn’t about that.

Luckily Pym didn’t seem to have noticed his silence because he continued speaking. “You know how at some jobs if you don’t have a car, the company will provide one...?”

* * *

John was a weak man, he was a weak, weak man. He knew he shouldn’t do this, Pym was obviously a mentally ill man whose teammates were taking advantage of him, and more importantly, John wasn’t gay. The only thing okay about this situation was that he had waited nearly a week to do this, watched Pym like a hawk until he looked less unstable.

It was late when he made his decision, leaving the main building of the compound one night and heading over to Pym’s condo, slightly closer to the beach than all the other buildings. John imagined that the seclusion was why the man had picked that building in the first place. He shuffled his feet awkwardly, knowing that if anyone looked out of their window, there was no way that they’d miss a six-foot-four, 270 lb man standing in the doorway.

Thankfully, Pym answered the door only a few moments after he started knocking, raising one quizzical eyebrow at him.

John coughed because suddenly the words wouldn’t come. “Your offer?” He said tersely. “Is it still open?”

Pym stood aside, letting him in. His living space was erratic, beakers and coffee mugs littered every surface. Photos of friends, what he assumed had to be family (there were several pictures of blond-haired, blue-eyed people, although there was a disconcerting lack of touching in those, and none of the people looked like they particularly liked each other), and fans lined the walls. When Pym appeared in the pictures of friends and fans, he was smiling, with family, he wasn’t. It would probably be concerning to someone who cared about him.

“The offer’s open,” the man’s voice said from behind him, and he must have been to the kitchen, because he handed John a glass of wine, “but have you ever been with a man before?”

Obviously, John hadn’t, he was a red-blooded American male, as heterosexual as they came. This was just... stress relief, the lack of viable partners getting to him. Pym smiled at him, a soft smile that was probably supposed to be calming, but really just annoyed John. It was like... he thought that John wouldn’t be able to take whatever Hawkeye had.

“What?” He growled. “You think I don’t know how to fuck an ass?”

Pym winced in response. “No. I don’t. I was, in fact, going to suggest that you avoid doing that today since I’d like to sit down tomorrow.”

“Bastard.”

“Fine, fine,” the man pinched the bridge of his nose, “but I’m in charge, you go sit down on the couch, and don’t touch anything.”

There were a lot of things he wanted to do in this situation, but none that wouldn’t result in Wonder Man trying to kill him if he ended up hearing about this, so John just allowed himself to fall back down into his chair. Let Pym have his little power play, he was the one in charge here, and he would be for the foreseeable future.

He could hear the sound of fabric rustling from behind him, and when Pym dropped down into his lap, he was naked. He was a bit softer than John would have expected, and USAgent suspected too much time in the lab, combined with too many snacks, was the cause. He was adding regimented exercise time to the schedule, if the Avengers were to act as a para-military organization, they had to be trained like one.

The lips that fluttered against his own were soft, shy, and he wondered vaguely if it was all an act or if this was how Pym was with the others too. He couldn’t quite make up his mind about that.

“Hey?” The man said, his voice soft. “Can I get started?”

John nodded, watching with considerable interest the way that Pym bit down on his lower lip as he shuffled backward in the soldier’s lap and started to undo his fly.

“Jesus-” He hissed as he pulled John’s cock out of his pants.

“Don’t blaspheme.” John grunted.

“It’s just- you’re huge, I’m thinking growing to take it might somehow be the option that’s less damaging to my health.”

“But then you’ll be heavy,” John pointed out, “not to mention less tight.”

“Oh, you naive man, you’re expecting me to be tight~” Pym hummed as he straightened up John’s cock, positioning his entrance right above the head, and then he sank down.

“Christ-” John hissed, because no matter what Pym had said, he was tight, or maybe it was John’s fault... the Power Broker’s process had increased his size to superhuman levels, just like the Super Soldier Serum had done to Rogers.

“Don’t blaspheme~” Pym teased, giving a slight grunt of discomfort as John bucked his hips up, by way of punishment.

The scientist didn’t deserve his comfort, not to mention... John wasn’t gay, and showing the man who was riding his cock any affection seemed gay, so he let Pym struggle to push himself all the way down by himself. He was warm and tight, and John gave a low groan of pleasure when he was fully seated.

The man gave a sharp, juddering breath as he pulled back up off of it, and when he slammed himself back down, he gave a cry of pain, stopped only by John’s hand clamping over his mouth. He swore, if anyone walked in on them because of that, Pym would be off of this team and out on the streets before this night was over.

The man took a few moments to gather his wits before he started to move, making obscene noises as he did so. John tried not to be fascinated by it, the way every time Pym slammed himself back down, he would make a soft squeaking noise. He decided that he was finding it annoying and not attractive in the slightest. It was just... lucky that some people were able to find their true calling in life.

Intermittently, he would circle his hips, lazily fucking up into the tightly clenching channel, and soon enough, Pym came with a cry. Unfortunately for him, the Power Broker’s process had also made it so that John lasted much, much longer than a regular human too, and he found himself getting flipped.

Hank wasn’t sure how many times he came that night, or how long John had been slamming into him. Possibly, it was until the sun came up.

All he knew was that he had been physically incapable of making it to the meeting, and despite knowing why, Walker had given him two demerits. Demerits. Like they were in school.

Was it too late to call Hawkeye and ask him to come back?


End file.
